The two are unrelated; except for the fact that I will, hopefully, get a Thai massage before I get on the plane for N.Y.C.

Listen, this ain’t very country or very American; but, this was an unexpected hour of what I’d imagine suckin’ on an opium pipe while floating through space might feel like. My friend Alison took me the other day for a Thai massage. I figured Thai, Swedish, Hawaiian, Hindu, Fondu, if someone was going to lay their hands on my body with any amount of pressure, I was going to oblige. We arrive and I’m immediately greeted by the sweet, pungent smell of some kind of burning foliage; sage. I’m informed this is what the Indians (yes, country lovers, AMERICAN Indians) used to “clear the air” of all bad energy, vibes, hoodoo voodoo, and the like. I’m offered fresh water with orange and escorted to the back room where I change into some funky, “MC Hammer” type pants with a dangling string. I didn’t know whether to put them on my head, put all of me through on leg, which way was forward or backwards, tie the string around my neck, my thigh, waist; but, I figured this would not be the “naked” kind of massage. Hmm… “just what kind of massage IS this going to be?”  I wondered. A young, beautiful Thai woman came to me, offered a slight bow and beckoned me to follow her with a quiet whisper, “Come. This way.” Now I REALLY wondered what kind of massage this would be! There were long wooden platforms, divided by curtains (which she would use to stabilize herself as she break danced on my back,) and a simple mat on the floor, where the whole show would go down. Drums began a slow, menacing, tribal beat, and just as I submitted myself to possibly being sacrificed, my body burned on a bed of sage leaves, some sultry voice began swimming up a Middle Eastern scale like a snake up the Nile and I realized this was just a cd meant to assist the transportation of me into space. It helped. So did this lithe woman who commenced to push, pull, stretch my ankles to my ears, tap dance and climb all over me; we literally performed a circus act without the exciting costumes. She’d whisper, “Hold my wrist,” and I’d go flying up, down, left, right, and end up, somehow balanced on top of her dainty feet on my back in the air. It was an out of body, transcendental, entirely un-American experience. I sure hope ya’ll can find some of these highly talented Thai Folk in your town; you don’t need the opium or the space ship!

I’ll be going to N.Y.C. on November 14th-16th for “SAWMANIA!”  But, really, this trip is my mecca back to the motherland or motherf***er, I like to call Missi Pyle. We haven’t been apart from one another this long since… well… our whole lives before we met just over a year ago. I’m like E.T. shriveling up, standing in the airport security line moaning, “Go home… Go home…,” pointing my lighted finger tip toward the sky. That’s actually where Missi and I met; in Space. And where we like to buy our tequila.

When we first conceived this band, our friend John Ingrassia as our witness, we swore no one would ever hear our music. He offered us a big, fancy, record deal and Missi replied, “We don’t want your f***ing record deal. We play for ourselves. We don’t play for ‘the Man.’ No one’s ever going to HEAR our music. We’ll show up the day before a show, play for ourselves, and be gone before any one tears a ticket!” Well, as you can see, we’ve completely sold out. We have a record for sale on itunes called, “It’s Okay to be Happy” and now we’re going to play a show in N.Y.C. at THE DELANCEY on Mon. November 17th (the day after Missi’s birthday!) See attached flyer.

Don’t forget to vote for us tomorrow!! We love… what?? “AMERICA!!” and… who?? “AMERICANNNNNNS!!”

and if you make the mecca to N.Y.C. see Missi in her play!! “BOEING-BOEING”

Calling Down a Blessing on us all… Even the Thai people, and their country, too!

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